


Of Moogles and Mail

by melpomeni_mandy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Lack of Communication, Self-Doubt, reunions over letters, what happens when you leave your mail in the hands of moogles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-27 15:18:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17164376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melpomeni_mandy/pseuds/melpomeni_mandy
Summary: Embroiled in the conflict to liberate two nations under Garlean rule, the Warrior of Light has had little time for personal mail or correspondence. Upon returning to the Rising Stones it would seem the post moogles, entrusted to ensuring the mail of Eorzeans everywhere, created a bit of a snafu for the hero.(A two-part story and a continuation from 'Long May She Endure' & 'Rumors')





	1. Part 1

“Ah, Ahlis! You are just the woman I’ve been waiting for.”

Ahlis looked up at the sound of Ephemie’s voice, curious. After the departure of Thancred towards Garlean territory and Y'shtola making her way to the Far East, Ahlis sough to relax after their return from Yanxia. Pushing aside the book in her hand she got up and walked over.

“It’s good to see you...what is it?”

Ephemie approached from her usual place behind the dry bar and waved her hand over to a large cabinet. Ahlis followed and stood before it as her fellow Scion placed a hand on the knob before opening it.

“I thought of placing these in your room but thought better of it. I know you like to keep your things undisturbed since, you know…”

Ahlis nodded once, briefly; the state of her belongings after the forceful takeover of Ilberd’s men was not unknown to the other Scions. It was a small consideration, a thankful one.

“Well,” Ephemie continued, “the post moogle has made a very prolific pile of mail all for you.”

Ahlis blanched, an expression which very quickly turned into contempt.

“Those furry, useless--”

“You would have received your mail at the Reach, but the moogle, he looked quite shaken,” Ephemie said as she attempted to explain in an effort to try and keep Ahlis’s temper in check.

“Oh did he now?” Ahlis did not sound impressed in the least.

A sympathetic lift of Ephemie’s brows appeared on her face.

“’It’s a war zone over there, kupo!’ To reiterate his own words. He’s not wrong, you know.”

“Really.”

Ahlis did not look convinced, and without further ado Ephemie opened the cabinet to reveal a near-bursting red bag of mail.

“Would you like some help?” Ephemie offered yet Ahlis humphed in return.

“I can handle it on my own,” Ahlis grumbled as she pulled out the heavy post bag with both hands into her arms.

Upon one of the empty tables the various letters spilled forth from the open mouth of the bag as Ahlis overturned it, emptying it entirely before setting it aside on one of the chairs. In another chair she sat down and for a moment marveled at the pile meant solely for her.

“Someone is quite the popular one isn’t she?”

Ephemie had followed behind to watch the mail cascade upon the table, the realization that so much had come for Ahlis and Ahlis alone, was a little startling despite understanding her renown.

“I’m never trusting the moogle post again,” Ahlis pushed one of her hands through the letters and pulled a piece at random. It was an advertisement of all things, on thick parchment with a request if the ‘esteemed Warrior of Light’ would give patronage.

“You sure you don’t want an extra pair of hands?”

“Aye, I’m sure. What was I thinking, wanting my mail delivered while within contested territory? Knowing most moogles are little chicken shites?”

Ephemie bit down on her lip a little, attempting not to laugh. It wasn’t every day she got a chance to hear Ahlis curse. After a moment she cleared her throat, the urge passing.

“Should be a good half year’s worth of post in this pile at least, I believe...”

Ahlis sighed audibly, her mouth twisting in an unimpressed grimace. Ephemie left her alone after that, the slow sound of letter after letter being ripped open, crumpled or filed away filling the calm quiet of the Rising Stones’ living area.

It was simple to fall into the rhythm of prying open envelopes, unfolding parchment, deciding whether such a letter was to be the next batch of kindling or something worth holding on to. Ahlis’s spirits dropped again; another letter from some enthusiast, from Gridania. This one was not accompanied by any gifts or tokens of affection, thankfully, nor was it written in a child’s hand which was a disappointment; the letters from children were adorable and worth keeping, but their numbers were few. She read it quickly and folded it again, placing it her growing ‘keep’ pile.

While she did not care for flattery it was different when sent via correspondence, although it was almost equally awkward. Ahlis could hear Thancred’s voice in her mind: _‘to think your number of growing admirers would someday outstrip mine!_ ’...she smiled at her own amusement; he would say that, wouldn’t he? She was one to think so.

Stopping to rub her thumb for a moment she realized how sore it had become. The pile of mail had diminished significantly; truth be told she could probably stop for the day and easily wrap it up on the morrow.

 _One more_ , she told herself, as she reached one last time for another letter. Another letter from a fanatic most likely, or maybe another advertisement, or another appeal for her to please eradicate such and such pest or to send in her opinion on something, or…

“What...”

The letter now within her grasp was unlike any of the others she had pilfered thus far. The parchment was fine quality, and the handwriting, addressing her name and residence...Ahlis couldn’t believe it.

It arrived from Ishgard, and sent from the Congregation. That could mean no other: it was word from Ser Aymeric. She stood up with such a hurry it almost sent her chair backwards as she frantically searched the rest of what mail remained. The other letters, deliveries and what ever else the moogle had brought her way over the past few months were scattered across the table with little care or thought.

“Ahlis?” Ephemie called out from behind the bar, “what are you...?”

The other Scion sounded a touch bewildered yet Ahlis did not bother to reply, not after finding another—and another, by the gods—from the lord commander. When no less than four meticulously addressed letters were in her grasp did Ahlis halt her search, confident that she had discovered them all. Ephemie walked to the table again and stopped at the Warrior of Light’s side: she saw that the woman was holding those letters to her breast, as if unbelieving they had arrived just for her.

“Is everything well?” Ephemie asked, her confusion from before still very much apparent in her expression.

Ahlis turned to her and her eyes danced between regarding her coworker, back to the table, and then away as she left the commons altogether.

“I’ll be in my quarters!”

Ephemie simply stared at her departure, none of her questions answered.

* * *

Ahlis opened the door to her room with all the haste she could muster before closing it behind her, the lock latching into place. The window had been left open a few ilms so the air would not stale as much; there was no concern for thievery either as her room was at a considerable height and she did not fear anything intrusion via the casement.

Walking to her writing desk she places all the letters upon it and stopped. For all the thoughts now circling within her mind Ahlis found herself at a loss: where could she possibly begin?

 _Just pick one!_ She berated herself and in her own fury at her weak indecisiveness she pried open the oldest letter first. At least the moogles had the sense to postmark the damned things. Ahlis breathed and unfolded the soft paper. It was the first few letters after the dating of the letter that she focused on, they were of her name.

_Ahlis,_

She stopped again and she looked away from the parchment. The corners of her eyes were starting to grow hot. This letter was real and whole and in her grasp, finally after all those months. She did not know if she was ready to read it, gods knew what its contents would reveal. Ahlis wanted to berate herself again, that the simple task—the fear—of reading such a letter was really so crippling?

She took a breath, exhaled, and started again, looking back upon the letter and, this time, she read it in full.

_Ahlis,_

_I hope this letter finds you in better spirits when last we spoke. Now that the liberation of Ala Mhigo is secured we are now faced with the arduous task of assisting a newly freed nation: we mus needs do what we can so that such efforts bear much fruit for the future._

_Yet my desire to write this letter for you stems not for my need to congratulate our victories against our enemies, nor to further burden you with the pragmatism of politics and the strategies a nation born anew must face. I write to you, in the hope that you receive this, with my most profound apologies._

_The morning when you came to me I failed to understand your pain. You were suffering in a manner for which my insensitivity was inexcusable, and in these respects I failed you completely, and utterly, as a friend._

_I am truly sorry for the wrong I have brought against you. Pray allow me to make amends. I would fain tell all of this to you in person, yet we are at the mercy of our duties, and you need not reply lest you desire more of me._

_Aymeric_

It was a strange sensation that moved through her now, having finally received what she knew part of her had been dreading for months. Perhaps dread was not entirely correct, as Ahlis also longed for a resolution too, and with it was the infinitesimal spark of hope that maybe it would me an amicable one. Yet the months passed, and nothing came to her hands. It was easy, then, to expect the worst outcome and to blame her own foolishness for ruining something before it even had a chance to begin. Ahlis had cursed herself in the dark hours when she was alone, when the urge to put her pen to paper was greatest, that she had done nothing to save what honestly mattered in the end.

But now all of that fretfulness was for naught. As Ahlis read the letter again, slower this time to savor ever sentence and to see just how the curve of the ink expressed every letter in a hand so much finer than her own, did the weight begin to lift from her heart and the stinging tears of relief touched her lashes.

A moment passed before she pressed the base of her palms to her eyes while holding back her urge to sniffle and she placed that first letter aside. The others were opened one by one, their contents devoured with a growing purpose that now possessed her as she opened drawers for ink, a quill and a clean piece of paper. The task before her still felt daunting, even now that she had her instruments in hand. Her grip upon the pen fidgeted; uncertain. The letters were there on the desk before her, waiting, like an open hand. From the days following the liberation and their last words to each other, Aymeric believed in sending small and poignant reminders that he still remembered her, regardless if she ever replied at all.

_Gods help me, where do I even start?_

She dipped her pen into the ink, tapping off the excess. Her hand hovered just above the parchment.

“To hells with it, Ahlis, just do it,” she cursed to herself, voice low and vehement.

Then, she began to write.


	2. Part 2

_I cannot believe it has already been over a year since the liberation. The times that followed were difficult for me, but in a way I didn’t wish to consider back then. Home, was not home, is still not home. Not yet. That’s what happens when you are forced to let it go, to grow up across a continent and between city-states and climes so different than the place of your birth, only to return to it even more changed than before. Ala Mhigo and I are both so different now., each with our own histories..yet perhaps I was too young to really understand or to truly recall? But, do you know what I do remember? I remember the color of azure against iron red stone, a voice of a friend where I never expected it. It hit me, this memory, and has stayed with me ever since. I miss those colors. That sound. That which is familiar._ _I miss you._

_\- an unsent letter, not dated_

* * *

 

Ahlis insisted that she be present during the transfer of Thancred from Ala Mhigo to the Rising Stones. There his fellow Scions and comrades would watch over him as he would be placed among the others who succumbed to what ever power beckoned and stole them beyond reach. Y'shtola and Urianger were the other unlucky ones to fall, witnessed by herself...and Alisaie.

She could not keep her thoughts long on her young friend; doing so invoked emotions, fearful and ominous ones in equal measure. It was better to focus on Thancred in the moment now, after having rushed herself back to the city, carefully pulling a chair to the side of the infirmary bed he lay resting in. They had a few moments to spare before the preparations would commence, yet now that they were alone and in silence Ahlis did not know what to say. It had been so long since the pair had exchanged words—even a moment—together.

“Well. You’ve gone and done it again haven’t you,” she spoke with no conviction in her voice, knowing it wasn’t his fault, knowing she had no one to blame. Not even a face.

What was she to do, now that so little certainty remained for his fate? For all of them? It was a dark path her mind dared to tread, yet it would serve no purpose for her friend lying prone and lifeless in an unfettered sleep. Instead she saw how simple, gentle even, Thancred seemed in such repose.

“Ever since our days in Ishgard you’ve kept a kind of distance, I feel.”

Her hands came together to rest in her lap and her eyes no longer remained upon his face. Rather, they scanned the infirmary room Thancred had been given, the door slightly ajar. It was quiet and separate from any business with other patients; only the faint presence of medicine and ointment lingered in the air.

Ahlis knew this distance she spoke of, a sort of space that still remained empty. Thancred never spoke of it, but the weight of the Antecedant’s departure was one he bore alone. In some ways she knew, she couldn’t understand, yet a part remained if perhaps there could be something, a kind of middle ground, where they could meet. She touched her forehead, a finger rubbing the gap between her eyebrows. Ahlis was tired, frustration seething in the back on her mind, and twisting in her chest. It could not be helped, the circles her mind was so fond of treading over and over.

_Was there something else I could have done?_

The quiet was broken at the faint and approaching footsteps she knew were coming. With time rapidly slipping away she reached for Thancred’s hand and gave a small touch; she dared to squeeze his fingers. It was quick, Ahlis removed herself before the infirmary healers arrived, bowing out of their way when they entered to retrieve him.

Thancred’s skin was warm, but nothing else; a disquieting realization settling even more into her heart. She half hoped—silly, perhaps—that such a tiny, infinitesimal gesture would provoke something out of him. He remained unmoving as they moved his body carefully from the confines of his bed, to the cot in which he was to travel upon, and from there to the awaiting party that would oversee his departure.

Ahlis followed after the healers, finally ready to leave after choosing to wait behind as the others made way back to Mor Dhona, yet the call of her name pulled her out of her pondering. She turned and stopped, frozen in her steps: it was Aymeric waiting just outside the entrance to the infirmary, alone with no accompaniment despite the evening hour. This was strange. Immediately Ahlis felt as if something was amiss.

“What is it?” She asked quickly, expectantly, a heavy knot now forming in her gut. “Is something…?”

Aymeric saw that he had startled her and sought to assuage her concern with his smile, the familiar and cordial turn on his lips crossing his face.

“Be at ease, my friend.”

He began to approach her and Ahlis realized she must have sounded far too tense; she looked away for a moment.

“I’m sorry, I, ah...I am a little on edge, as you can imagine.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Aymeric paused briefly, considering, “Is there aught we can do for him?”

Aymeric’s expression was a somber with a pensive narrowing of his eyes. The scene from before where all had gathered: the Scions, his fellow peers of the Alliance, and Ahlis, and the sudden ‘attack’ upon them. It had been a confusing, harrowing experience, lasting only a matter of moments before…

“Not at this time, no. Thancred’s condition hasn’t changed, but I plan to go back to the Rising Stones where the others are waiting,” Ahlis looked pointedly to him then, seemingly resolute. If she was putting on faces, she was rather convincing. “We will find answers for what was done to us.”

Ah, of course. Aymeric canted his head in acquiescence, yet when he looked upon Ahlis again his thoughts were far more plain upon his features: a softness now touching his eyes.

“Then I shall keep you no longer. Go to your companions, and find the answers you seek.”

Ahlis did not respond to him as she turned her eyes back down the path where Thancred had been taken. Tension began to grow in her chest. To follow and continue on her way...her friend deserved that much at least. And yet…? Her hands clenched at her sides.

_Sorry, Thancred, but for my sake I must do this. Allow me this selfishness, just this once._

“I, don’t need to leave immediately,” Ahlis said, decision made. “You and I haven’t had a proper chance to talk in some time.”

“That we have not,” Aymeric approached, closing the space between them further.

If they were to speak in confidence, Ahlis surmised, they would not do so just beyond the infirmary doors. She offered her hand to him: was this too forward? Would he accept? Such considerations crossed her thoughts yet she found little care in it, not this time.

“Follow me, I know a place where we can go,” Ahlis spoke, palm upward.

A moment passed as Aymeric looked to her hand, then to her, before he clasped it within his own without question.

 

* * *

 

The room was cool when they entered, the sconces unlit and empty stone hearth belonging within. Evening had settled in and after scurrying in the dark Ahlis found light enough from one lamp with enough oil to last, with other candles following suit.

Within the growing light of the room Aymeric could see it was rather bare, though serviceable, as Ahlis did her best in improving any sort of hospitable character it might have had. Tapestries replacing the Garlean banners had been hung up within and drawn close against the sealed windows to fend off the cold air, and what sparse furniture that remained looked old and slightly out of place. For all he knew this place may have served as a storage area, nondescript and somewhat removed from the busier sides of the Quarter. Yet in the interim she had managed to turn it into a kind of living space. Quiet, and solitary.

“It’s the best we can do, I suppose. It’s what I get for not cleaning it for a long while,” Ahlis spoke as she dusted her hands upon her hips. “You won’t believe the fuss Lyse gave me when I told her all I wanted was a hole in the wall.”

Aymeric smiled in brief amusement; it was fitting. To him, she had always seemed as someone with little want and need, a woman who would make do with what was given.

“Do you rest here?” Aymeric looked to the narrow and small bed with two threadbare blankets tossed upon it. It looked small, almost painfully so.

“Sometimes,” Ahlis shrugged her shoulders before rubbing her hands together as she walked towards the fireplace. “It doesn’t look it, but, it’s comforting...especially if I want some silence.”

The fire took some time to burn hot and plentiful, having spent the rest of the meager wood and kindling. She knelt near the heath in silence as she watched it grow, and when she turned back to see how Aymeric fared, Ahlis found him having pushed part of the makeshift drapery aside at a window, his eyes looking out into the city beyond.

“Not the best view, is it?” Ahlis’s lips turned into a little half smile. “Compared to the sight from the Palace. Remember?”

Ahlis rose to her feet, moving to where Aymeric stood and taking a place at his side. He turned away from the window and their eyes met.

“That I do. I would be remiss in having not committed it to memory. You were radiant with victory despite your injuries.”

“Hmph, always effusive with your praise.”

“I remember your tears,” he continued, though now he voice had become soft, and careful. “Despite your efforts in hiding them. It my own folly not to join you and give what aid I could.”

Ahlis shook her head briefly, feeling herself faltering against his gentle regard for her; she fought against provoking him as the old ire of feeling so vulnerable began to claw upon her insides.

“No, I...wished some things had been different,” she said, and when she did Ahlis was unable to stop herself from looking away. “That’s all, aye? It’s a perfectly reasonable reason to cry.”

_What am I doing?_ Her cheeks began to feel hot as her throat worked to say anything else but nothing came. It was like frustration was inching up her windpipe, only to make her feel like she was burning.

“You need not justify yourself to me, that was not mine intent. The recent events have been quite trying, and I worry you carry more of the burden than most. Nor must you suffer alone, Ahlis.”

Aymeric reached for her, his fingers lightly brushing upon her arm, and suddenly everything felt like it stopped. She held her breath and Ahlis swore she could feel her heart sharp against her chest. It was too much, this surge of emotion that bloomed inside of her, and when she finally mustered the nerve to look at him again her eyes were distraught, maddened by her emotion that began to surface from within.

“I don’t have that luxury. This is, it’s...”

Ahlis made to draw herself away from Aymeric yet his fingers tightened upon her arm, keeping her near. With lips parted she looked as if she gasped at his action yet he remained undeterred.

“I cannot claim to know the entirety of your burdens, nay they pale in comparison to mine own. I understand the responsibility of honoring one’s duty, and yet you draw yourself away, time after time. Is the thought of sharing your hardships and camaraderie that ails you so? Tell me...please.”

Ahlis clenched her jaw; the urge to bite back against him was fierce, ready to scream from her tongue. Her heart was relentless, continuing to pound. In the end it was the insistence of his voice, and the intense, earnest plea within it that made her speak.

“It’s happening again. My friends, they’re...we’re being torn apart and I don’t know if I can do anything to stop it.” Her arm went limp in Aymeric’s grasp, her will to try and pull away dissipating. “First it was Thancred, now Y’shtola and Urianger. And Alisaie...I cannot protect her either. Nor you.” She looked to him and, for the first time that Aymeric could truly recall, he saw a pained despair in her eyes. “I fear everyone that I hold dear to me are in absolute danger.”

Aymeric’s gaze fell, eyes nearly closing with dark lashes hooding his gaze.

“I cannot allow you to come any closer to me. It is for your own safety,” Ahlis uttered softly.

Aymeric closed his eyes for a moment, then another, before he opened them again.

“I fear no outcome nor for mine own fate, such is my responsibility. Yet I wonder if you believe that I remain indifferent to your plight, regardless of all that has happened?”

Ahlis’s was struck by his sincerity; she had no excuse to be surprised, even if his accusation stung, and yet? She sighed—huffed, more like—before her eyes narrowed to match his stare.

“Oh, you frustrate me! You and all your reckless conviction. I’m serious.”

“As am I. For all that you have done for my people, for my city...and for my own gains, selfish as they were. Allow me to make good on my promise, and to remain by your side as a companion, as a friend.”

His words were like an arrow into her heart as she remembered that day she returned to the city. He had come to welcome her arrival, earnest in his wish to repay her deeds in what ever measure he could. Ahlis felt herself wavering, the ache of being between stubbornness and relenting, the temptation of giving in just an ilm when an ilm felt like everything. She must have been silent for so long that Aymeric started to pull away, but it was his absence that made her finally respond. Taking his hand once more into her own, she knew there was to be no more reticence, not now, and to hells with the rest of it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her attention captured by the warmth of his fingers, “you owe me nothing. You have already done so much.” Ahlis pursed her lips for a moment, a small joyless chuckle following after. “I’m pretty terrible at this, you know.”

“Only out of lack of trying,” Aymeric turned his hand, fingers brushing against one another. “Practice, on the other hand, is a worthy strategy, if I a may say so.”

“Are you volunteering to help me then?” Ahlis briefly narrowed her eyes, testing, provoking him as much as she kept her own touch feather-light. To witness this almost-playfulness from her, Aymeric could not deny the relief he felt moving through him, from those self-same fingertips to the depths within his heart.

“If you will have me,” he replied and he stopped entirely, his breath caught in his throat. “That is to say, I am...”

Ahlis laughed, honestly and truly now, after a rather incredulous look came to her face and all attempts to redeem himself died then and there. Aymeric swore and hoped his face, and his ears, did not betray his embarrassment.

“Come on then,” she tugged upon him lightly, still mirthful, towards the hearth and warmth of the fire. “I’d prefer it if we did not stand near the cold windows.”

Aymeric followed in her footsteps, grateful and, finally, content.


End file.
